Chapter 8 #2
“I don't know if that’s entirely fair." She shifted in his arms, her body suddenly feeling less relaxed than it had a minute ago. "Sure, the producers are editing it to make it more exaggerated, but I don’t think you can say that the women are manufacturing it."
“Manufactured might be a strong word, but you can’t deny that they make terrible choices and then act dumbfounded when it goes completely south,” he replied, feeling the slightest pinprick of annoyance.
His suggestion to keep them in their post-coital bubble had had the opposite effect for some reason.
Naomi sat up, leaving his skin cold from her absence. She brushed a curl behind her ear. “These women have complicated histories and relationships. Yes, they make questionable choices sometimes, but so does everyone."
The pin prick of annoyance had graduated to a spinal tap.
Why was she making such a big deal out of this?
He let out a little sigh as he tried, again, to explain what he meant.
“There’s a big difference between having complicated histories and making poor choices because of them,” he told her silhouette.
“And then to take it a step further and compound it by dragging everyone they love into it too?”
“You’re saying you think it’s better if they hide all their problems.” Her reply, more statement than question, was sharp.
“No, honey,” he said, with a modicum of surprise at her tone. Apparently, Naomi was a bigger Real Housewives fan than she was letting on to be getting this upset about it.
“Then what?”
“I’m just—all I’m saying is it’s bad enough to create all these problems for yourself, but it’s even worse to go onto a television show to shine a spotlight on it.
Do you think all the people in their lives signed up to have their dirty laundry televised and scrutinized?
If these women could put all their mistakes out there in some vacuum where no one else was affected, then I guess that’s their choice.
But that’s impossible, and to me, it’s unforgivable.
Maybe it’s the farm boy in me, but I’d run so fast if I ever met anyone like that.
Are you really telling me you wouldn’t either? ”
“I suppose,” Naomi said, her voice nearly a whisper.
He waited for her to say more, but the silence dragged on.
He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, and he was ready to leave the conversation behind.
“I didn’t mean to hate on something you like.
I know reality TV is wildly popular, so I am in the minority.
However, for you? I’d watch Real Housewives.
” Relationships were all about compromise and even though he’d get heckled for it back home if they ever found out, this was one compromise he’d be happy to make.
“Maybe I haven’t seen enough of it to truly appreciate it.
It’s still early, so let me get some popcorn, and we can make a night out of it. ”
The television flickered like a strobe light across her face, giving him glimpses of her expression—which seemed to change each time the light shifted.
Finally, with what sounded like a hint of a sigh, she shrugged.
“That’s okay. Reality TV is more Abby and Riley’s thing—I should get going anyway. Early day tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
She looked back at him, her lips stretching into a smile. “Positive.”
He watched, silently, as she stood up and went about collecting and putting on her clothes.
“I love you,” he said, as she pulled on her jacket.
“I love you, too.” She leaned in and kissed him. “See you tomorrow?”
He nodded and watched, a blanket of anxiety settling over him, as she walked out the door.
He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but it felt like her words, and her kiss, were a few degrees cooler.
Was she really upset about his opinion on reality TV?
Or was there something else? This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself asking that question around Naomi.
Every once in a while, her demeanor would change for reasons he could never pinpoint.
At least, that’s what it seemed like. All those times, like tonight, he was never sure if something was wrong or if he was merely inept at understanding women, so he said nothing.
He let their conversation replay in his mind, wondering if he might get a clue, but under the hypnotic glow of the television, he soon fell asleep.
He awoke to bright sunlight streaming into his living room and his phone pinging under an item of clothing on his floor. Half asleep, he searched his living room until he located the correct pocket with his phone.
FREYA: Brian is hounding me to get this in.
When you get here, can you bring those financial records you were looking over?
Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, we don’t have time to include that part.
Maybe they’ll let us do a follow up. Forget the records but if you could swing by the supply closet, I could really use some new highlighters.
And now I’m out of printer paper.
He skimmed the messages and then pulled himself out of bed.
He hurried through his morning routine, slowing down only to choose his T-shirt: a simple yellow and white shirt that read, “Good God, Lemon,” a phrase that had become an inside joke between him and Freya.
He’d been saving it for a moment when she needed to smile, and this seemed like the moment.
His place was a fifteen-minute drive to the studio and he stopped for donuts and coffee on the way since it was clear that Freya had been at the office for at least several hours already, and he was quite sure she had not consumed anything since the sun came up.
When he arrived at the Nightly Global News studio, he found Freya in her office, scrolling through footage on her computer.
She didn’t look up at him, only pointed at her screen.
“I want to include this section with Sandy talking about the Ford plant closing. But we’re going to need to verify what she’s saying about her father getting laid off. ”
She was dressed in forest green Lululemon yoga pants and hoodie. During the week, she was always dressed to the nines at the office. However, Lululemon was her uniform on weekends.
“When is the last time you ate?”
She shrugged and leaned in closer to her computer. “Didn’t we have the employee rosters in one of these folders somewhere?”
In response, he set the coffee and pastries on her desk.
Her eyes went to the coffee, back to the screen, and then back to the coffee. Finally, she sighed and leaned back. “Okay, fine.” She grabbed a donut and took a carnivorous bite. “But if this story gets cut because we sent it in late, I’m sending you up there to explain that donuts took us down.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” he said, taking a seat across from her. “Besides, that’s never happened once. Have we gotten so close to the deadline we could have gotten it pregnant? Sure. But we always pull it off in the end.”
She took a long pull of her Venti iced coffee, and as she did, her shoulders relaxed, and her grip on the cup loosened.
She looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time that day.
“Thanks,” she said, then took another bite of donut, her eyes flicking to his shirt and then up, with the smallest of smiles, “Nice shirt.”
Internally, he fist pumped. “Thanks,” he said, keeping his composure. He picked up a blueberry muffin and began to peel back the wrapper, glancing at her screen. “How long you been at this?”
“Brian caught me last night, told me we’d put too many resources into it, and if we didn’t have something for him by this afternoon he was going to cut the story.”
“You should have called me.”
Freya swallowed the last of her donut. “I figured one of us should have a good Friday night. Hopefully, you fulfilled the assignment.”
He couldn’t stop his lips from parting in a smile as he thought about his evening.
“That good, huh?”
“We broke out the big L word last night. I’ve said it before, but somehow this felt different. This sounds so corny, but I feel like she’s the one. Like—it’s felt that way from the minute I turned around and saw her and …”
An amused expression drifted onto Freya’s face. “Did she have you at hello, Will?”
“Listen, you.” He cinched his lips together to hold back the laughter. “I brought you sustenance, and this is how you treat me?”
She held up her hands. “I can only work with what you’re giving me. And right now you’re giving me some real Jerry Maguire vibes.”
“That reference is so dated, it really softens the blow.”
She wrinkled her nose at him.
“It’s not like that. It doesn’t feel like she ‘completes me.’ It feels like … she compliments me.”
Instead of tossing out a joke, Freya pushed back in her chair and put her hands behind her head, a contemplative look on her face.
He wondered if she was about to give him a glimpse into her love life, a topic on which he knew next to nothing despite his best efforts.
She’d never dropped so much as a morsel.
He’d seen photos of her at premiers and fundraisers on the arm of a variety of tall men, most of whom had features that could cut glass.
But she never talked about those men and certainly never brought them anywhere that he could meet them.
Would this be the moment that she finally let something slip? An anecdote or a piece of advice? He stopped chewing and bent forward slightly.
She looked up at the ceiling. “Two halves have little choice but to join; and yes, they do make a whole. But two wholes when they coincide … that is beauty. That is love.”
He blinked.
When he didn’t say anything, she returned her gaze to him. “Poetry,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Peter McWilliams. I read that a while ago, and it always stuck with me.”
He resumed chewing, feeling slightly disappointed. “I never would have taken you for the poetry type, Jonsson.”
“I am, but less for the romantic side of it and more for the exploration of the written word. I find it helps me think outside the box.”
He filed that away. It wasn’t a peek into her romantic life, but it was a useful tidbit into the private world of Freya. “Speaking of going outside the box, you don’t happen to know anything about the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah, do you?”
“My parents were atheists from Iceland, so I can’t say that I do other than a general overview of the holiday. Why?”
“Naomi invited me—well, I kind of invited myself—to a Rosh Hashanah thing tonight. I was hoping you could give me pointers and also pick me up from her place on your way to the airport.”
“Going over for the holidays? You two really are in love.”
“Right? I thought maybe she wasn’t ready to integrate the relationship into the rest of her life, but I guess if I’m coming over for the New Year, that must not be it. Now I have to be sure I don’t make a complete ass of myself and make her regret it.”
“Sounds like you’ve got some research to do.”
“Let me guess. Not until I finish the research I need to do here?”
Freya pressed a hand to each cheek. “Aww, Will! You read my mind. Now who is completing who?”
He shot her an insolent glance before turning her monitor to face him. “Alright, alright. Let’s get to it.”